(no subject)
Ladies and gentlemen, I am totally drunk. This is Drunk Rato. This is a message from Drunk Rato to Sober Rato. You need to know this.
You went drinking with your father, This ws the fisrt time you've gone drinking with a friend, instead of alone.
You need to remember this: The difference between reality and glamor. The Sutra of the Strip Club is theatre. People pretend. People pretend to be other people. People pretend to be themselves, women and men. The difference between women andf men is that men hit on women based on their beauty, while women hit on men based on power. This happened to my father when he was 45, he told me.
What is real? Why is Rato someone to be proud of being?
Is this a dagger I see in my hand before me? Am I a butterfly dreaming I'm a monk, or a monk dreaming I'm a butterfly? Or a plate of sashimi dreaming I'm a bowling ball?
In many ways, I am my father's clone. I look like him. He has passed on his memes to me. The movement you need is on your shoulders. He has brought me into the world. He has spent immesuarable amounts of time and money bringing me to be his heir, his real life's work. He has spent his life serving the government, and his nation, which are not always the same thing, but he has spent his life to bring me to life, and I shoud listen to him.
He is my closest and most trustsed friend. We went to Quinn's, and saw the bagpipes. We went to the Cactus Bar, and saw the theatre and the reality. We went to the Torch, and saw the glamour and the theatre in their true glory.
If my mother asks, we spent the night at Quinn's. We saw mr. Mallory, who owns the place. He's a marine.
...my mother is the most sane of her sisters. That's damning with faint praise. When she's depressed or stressed, she acts like her sisters. It took us half an hour to leave the house, because she was acting crazyl.
Oh, midterms are over. I'll paste my Coca-Cola paper later, when I'm sober.
Why am I afraid of women? Why? I don't understand. I'm gorgeous. I'm brilliant. I have nothing to fear from them. Why?
I want to be a game designer. Why? Is this something that needs to be done?
Napoleon reached 90% of his potential as a person. He could have run the world, but instead hea diied on St. Helena.
Can I even live with mysell?
Almost all my friends are online. And none of my RL friends drink. This has been the first time I've ben drinking with a friend.
I drink to avoid things. I drink to avoid the past and the future, to live in the present. My father said this.
This is the truth. He's me +25 years, in many ways. I can accept this, because he's so close to me. He's very much like me.
All I want in life is to be loved, to be respected, and to be a famous game designer. That's it. Anything esle is gravy.
I could be so much more. If I reached even 90% of my potential as a person, I'd be Napoleon, or Ghandi, or Martin Luther, or Martin Luther King. But all I want is 10%. I want to inspire the 90%'s.
I could, if I burned with ther holy fire, I could bring revoltion to the world.
But I don't want that.
What do I want?
I'd better end this entry here. The dichotoimy beteeen the image and the reality of the strip club has broken me.
You went drinking with your father, This ws the fisrt time you've gone drinking with a friend, instead of alone.
You need to remember this: The difference between reality and glamor. The Sutra of the Strip Club is theatre. People pretend. People pretend to be other people. People pretend to be themselves, women and men. The difference between women andf men is that men hit on women based on their beauty, while women hit on men based on power. This happened to my father when he was 45, he told me.
What is real? Why is Rato someone to be proud of being?
Is this a dagger I see in my hand before me? Am I a butterfly dreaming I'm a monk, or a monk dreaming I'm a butterfly? Or a plate of sashimi dreaming I'm a bowling ball?
In many ways, I am my father's clone. I look like him. He has passed on his memes to me. The movement you need is on your shoulders. He has brought me into the world. He has spent immesuarable amounts of time and money bringing me to be his heir, his real life's work. He has spent his life serving the government, and his nation, which are not always the same thing, but he has spent his life to bring me to life, and I shoud listen to him.
He is my closest and most trustsed friend. We went to Quinn's, and saw the bagpipes. We went to the Cactus Bar, and saw the theatre and the reality. We went to the Torch, and saw the glamour and the theatre in their true glory.
If my mother asks, we spent the night at Quinn's. We saw mr. Mallory, who owns the place. He's a marine.
...my mother is the most sane of her sisters. That's damning with faint praise. When she's depressed or stressed, she acts like her sisters. It took us half an hour to leave the house, because she was acting crazyl.
Oh, midterms are over. I'll paste my Coca-Cola paper later, when I'm sober.
Why am I afraid of women? Why? I don't understand. I'm gorgeous. I'm brilliant. I have nothing to fear from them. Why?
I want to be a game designer. Why? Is this something that needs to be done?
Napoleon reached 90% of his potential as a person. He could have run the world, but instead hea diied on St. Helena.
Can I even live with mysell?
Almost all my friends are online. And none of my RL friends drink. This has been the first time I've ben drinking with a friend.
I drink to avoid things. I drink to avoid the past and the future, to live in the present. My father said this.
This is the truth. He's me +25 years, in many ways. I can accept this, because he's so close to me. He's very much like me.
All I want in life is to be loved, to be respected, and to be a famous game designer. That's it. Anything esle is gravy.
I could be so much more. If I reached even 90% of my potential as a person, I'd be Napoleon, or Ghandi, or Martin Luther, or Martin Luther King. But all I want is 10%. I want to inspire the 90%'s.
I could, if I burned with ther holy fire, I could bring revoltion to the world.
But I don't want that.
What do I want?
I'd better end this entry here. The dichotoimy beteeen the image and the reality of the strip club has broken me.